Subscribe to Mormolyke's Blog

Avid readers: if you scroll down to the bottom of the page, you will now find that there is a way to subscribe to this blog a la Xanga so that you receive a daily e-mail when I update. God bless Feedburner.

There's a house for sale in Downingtown that we want. Unfortunately, the owner of the house is an elderly lady whose husband has just passed away, and she's too distressed and overwhelmed to show it. Hopefully I can get access this Wednesday, but I've worked myself into such a state of frenzy over the location that, short of termites, an open sewer in the kitchen, or the complete lack of a foundation, I'm going to try for it.

By this evening, I have to read five chapters of my godawfully dry Ethics textbook and write two papers. My last class and the final exam is tonight. I know nothing. It's been such a stupidly busy week. When I haven't been driving two hours each way to look at houses, I've been performing in The Brementown Musicians, leading my last Gamut Theatre School classes through their final performances, writing press releases for Lear, or performing at the annual Arts Awards (see picture top left). It's all a bit overwhelming. I'll be better tomorrow.

My mother called on Friday night to remind me of Mothers' Day and harangue me about having a baby. She's very stuck on the idea that I have to give birth in 2010, so I can look forward to four years of this. According to her interpretation of Chinese astrology, if I don't have a baby in the year of the Dragon, I'm doomed. I when I tried to tell her that I don't really want to have a baby (I stopped short of saying that astrology was the single dumbest reason I could think of to procreate, but I was thinking it), she insisted that I only ever do the opposite of what she tells me.

"Well, if you're so smart, Mum, why don't you tell me not to have a baby?""OK, then! Don't have a baby! If you have a baby, I'll never speak to you again! If you get pregnant, have the baby in secret and don't tell me! You might as well piss on me!"

It was tres hilarious. Maybe you had to be there, but it was the most fun Mum and I have had together in months.

Study Shows Americans Sicker Than English. I heard about this fascinating study on WHYY the other day. Nobody can figure out why Americans are twice as sick as the English, even when issues of race, wealth, and obesity are excluded. My theory? High fructose corn syrup, of course.